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I can't write a single thing without thinking I sound pretentious.
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My car is a horrible substitute for you. Screaming at the stereo isn't satisfying in the least.
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My legs hurt from soccer and I want to kill myself. Instead, I'll wash my face, have one (1) beer and watch Training Day.
Considering my options, I think I'm all right.
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I have an appointment with my family doctor tomorrow to take a look at my knuckle.
Shite! CD Warehouse called this afternoon.
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beckoning
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